David watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy was rolled back into his emergency-room cubicle. Like his deputy, he would have guessed the boy’s age around twelve, given his short stature and thin frame. But if the doctor was right, if he was older, then he might have been… Not my Jaxon. Couldn’t be.
Dr. Gregory Queen slipped a folder into the holder on the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. In Millerton, most residents could trace their family back several generations. The doctor, however, was a rare outsider. He had arrived at the hospital two years earlier, fresh out of residency and a new employee of the outsourcing company operating the small-town emergency room. He had never settled into small-town life, so he didn’t attend the usual functions with the sheriff—Rotary, Kiwanis, the big churches—anywhere the town leaders were. The man wasn’t trying to put down roots in Millerton, the sheriff thought. Probably waiting on a chance at a bigger city hospital.
Impatient, Deputy Patterson protested, “But from his size… I mean, I picked him up in my arms like he was nothing. My nephew is eleven and weighs more than he does. No way that kid is older than twelve.”
The doctor sipped his coffee. “Based on his weight and height, twelve would be a reasonable guess… if he were healthy, which he’s not. This boy’s been subjected to years of malnutrition stunting his growth. Properly fed, I expect he would be several inches taller and thirty to forty pounds heavier.”
“So he’s thin, but that doesn’t mean he’s older, though, right?”
“We see other signs.”
The sheriff asked, “Like what?”
“For one, Sheriff, he’s well through puberty.”
“But some kids do start early, right?”
“Sure, some kids. A kid with a healthy diet in a conducive environment. But not one as malnourished as our patient. His poor nutrition levels would have delayed puberty’s onset.” The doctor fiddled with his stethoscope. “Besides, we also see signs in his bone structure and muscle development, what muscle there is. And, very importantly, his teeth.”
“Teeth?”
“He has all of his adult teeth.” The doctor crinkled his face in disgust. “At least he had them all. The kid hasn’t seen a dentist in years, if ever, and is missing several teeth, either knocked out or fallen out from lack of care. Anyway, they all come in by twelve or thirteen, and they have been in for a while, so he’s certainly older.”
“So he’s at least thirteen, maybe fourteen.”
The doctor crossed his arms. “There’s more, Sheriff. What is really notable is his wisdom teeth are starting to come in. That rarely happens until at least fifteen or sixteen years old.”
The pen in David’s hand shook as his hands trembled. He whispered, “Fifteen or sixteen? Are you sure?”
“Can’t pinpoint it exactly, and the boy isn’t talking, but, yes, I’m reasonably sure he’s in his mid-to-late teens. My best guess is fifteen to seventeen.”
David leaned against the counter and stared up into the ceiling lights. Did I screw up all those years ago? He forced himself to focus on the case. “How bad of shape is he in?”
“He’s not in immediate physical danger, if that’s what you want to know.” Dr. Queen motioned for the sheriff and deputy to follow him into one of the examination cubicles and continued in a hushed tone. “Hypothermia and frostbite presented as his biggest acute problems upon arrival. I thought he was going to lose some toes or fingers, but circulation is improving, so I think we can save them. We’re still cleaning his feet from lacerations and abrasions, a direct impact of walking so far without shoes. Several other injuries, but nothing life-threatening. Minor cuts, which he appeared to sustain crossing through the woods. His hands are bruised. He has broken fingers and a sprained wrist. A couple of fingernails have been ripped out, which certainly creates additional infection risk. I’ve seen guys in here after bar fights with less damage to their hands.”
“You think he fought with someone?”
“More like with something. His hands are full of splinters, as if he was hitting something wooden. And those missing fingernails suggest clawing at something.”
The sheriff curled and flexed his fingers, imagining the pain. “Perhaps like he escaped from somewhere?”
The doctor flinched, his already pale skin going even whiter. “Possibly. Certainly would explain some of the injuries. Wherever he was, it’s good he got away from it. His long-term injuries suggest a quite abusive background. He’s got dozens of scars on his arms, legs, back, chest, face… everywhere, really. We’re still cataloging them. Burn marks on his chest and arms consistent with cigarettes. Multiple cuts never healed correctly, including a nasty jagged one on his face that should have had stitches but never did. X-rays have revealed multiple old broken bones that never healed properly. Cracked ribs. His jaw and nose were broken at some point, probably more than once. And a spiral fracture of the left arm indicates being yanked around by the arm. And, of course, the missing teeth I’ve already mentioned. This kid has been subjected to physical abuse in the worst way imaginable. Not just once, Sheriff. Repeatedly and over many years.”
David scribbled the list in his notepad, his pen bearing down harder and harder on the pad as anger welled up inside him. Like most police officers, child abuse cases bothered him more than almost any other crime. He really didn’t want to hear the answer, but he had to ask the hardest question. “Molestation?”
“I’ve only done a cursory exam so far, but no obvious physical signs of recent sexual abuse. Even with a more extensive exam, though, anything less than recent would be hard to spot physically. That information, unfortunately, will come once he starts talking to us.” The doctor shook his head and sighed. “Hate to sound like a cheap TV commercial, but wait—there’s more.”
“What else?”
“When I said ‘malnourished’ earlier, I wasn’t specific enough. We’re talking severe malnutrition. In the immediate past, this kid hasn’t eaten in days. I mean, absolutely nothing is in his stomach other than what your deputy gave him. We can get plenty of food in him here, and we’re adding supplements through IV’s, but I’m more concerned about the very long-term deficit we have to overcome.” Dr. Queen looked toward the closed curtain surrounding the boy’s bed. “I don’t mean a kid living on chips, candy, and colas like we see a lot here in the county. I’m talking a long-term deprivation—a total lack of food. I haven’t seen anything like it since dealing with famines in the Peace Corps.”
Just like this doctor to do something goody-two-shoes like volunteering in the Peace Corps, the sheriff thought. Maybe his volunteer work earned him some student loan forgiveness. At least, he believed that’s how that worked. Maybe that’s why he was in Millerton, too, to work in rural America like it was the same as some third-world country. He chased the thoughts out of his head and said, “The kid’s lucky to be alive.”
The doctor pursed his lips and nodded. “Now, Sheriff, I’ve told you everything I know. What am I missing? I get it you have a mystery to solve, but why are you so hung up on the kid’s age?”
David tucked his notebook away and leaned against the counter. There was no point in avoiding the question and not telling the doctor. Millerton was a small town. He wasn’t the only person who was going to make the connection. Better to be forthright. “It’s probably not him, but the name’s the same.”
“As who?”
He lowered his voice. “Ten years ago, we had a six-year-old boy disappear. Absolutely no trace whatsoever, no witnesses, nothing particularly concrete.”
“And you think this is him?”
David paused. “No, not really, because it doesn’t make sense. But…”
“But?”
“The name, Jaxon. One of the first writing assignments kids have in school is to print their name, and Jaxon did it with flying colors. He was quite proud of it. And he knew the spelling was a little different, so he was always telling people how to do it… Jaxon with an x. People remembered how he said it. So when this kid used that exact phrase with my deputy…”
The deputy’s skin paled while listening. “I remember that case. I was in middle school, so I didn’t know him or anything, but everyone talked about it. My parents wouldn’t let me out of their sight for weeks. But I thought that kid had been killed.”
The sheriff grimaced. “We thought so, too, but only because we found no evidence he was alive.”
The doctor set his coffee cup on the counter. “You suspected kidnapping?”
“We suspected everything. At first, we thought he had wandered off and gotten lost. We searched around the city park, near the trails, and up into the mountains, but not a clue. We searched ravines and creeks, thinking maybe he had fallen and been hurt. Without any clues, not even torn clothing on brush, it became more likely something heinous had happened. We interrogated sex offenders and searched their homes. We questioned everyone the kid knew, including teachers, his minister, friends.”
Deputy Patterson said, “I thought his dad did it?”
David grimaced. Of course the deputy believed that. Everyone in town did. Because I believed it. “He became our prime suspect. No alibi. Claimed he couldn’t even remember where he had been. A long history of drug and alcohol abuse. Found evidence the kid had been in his trailer and car, but that only proved he violated his custody agreement.”
“I thought he went to prison for it.”
“He went to prison for drug charges.” David crossed his arms. “The fact is, we didn’t have enough of a case other than circumstantial evidence. But if that is the same Jaxon in there…”
Dr. Queen finished the thought. “He might be able to tell you what really happened.”